I'm a Lousy Poet, but My Love is True
by JAGartist
Summary: "I thought those poems were beautiful. The last one was my favorite." USUK Valentine's Day oneshot


Disclaimer: APH is not mine and shall never be mine (maybe)

XOXOXO

I'm a Lousy Poet, but My Love is True

It started out as an ordinary day.

Well, it sort of did.

England had just woken up from a dream he knew too good to be true. It went along the lines of declarations of love, but he couldn't recall who. It didn't matter though; he knew such things would never happen. After all, who would want to be with someone as stingy and cranky as him, not that he would ever admit that he was as such? Even so, he had almost decided to go back to sleep to dream some more, but decided against it when he saw the time.

Pushing the dream aside, England had moved to get himself out of bed when his hand brushed against something that was most definitely not his pillow. He turned, startled, to where his hand was lying over the bundle stems of blue and white irises, a small piece of paper attached to the bouquet. _Where in the world did this come from_, thought England. He found the thought of finding a flower of any kind lying on his bed suspicious, especially because someone had obviously placed it there, which meant someone had barged into his house without permission. He decided to humor whoever the intruder may be and opened the piece of paper to discover a note inside.

_Your perfect green eyes  
>Shine bright like emeralds do<br>How I love them so_

A haiku. Granted it didn't rhyme, but it was a good effort. Even so, the words made something foreign but familiar inside England jump. Since when did his eyes look like emeralds? As far as he knew, his eyes were as dull as, well, a toad or something. He looked over the poem again, cursing himself for being unable to identify the sender's writing since the piece had been cleverly typed out to hide such person's identity.

Just who sent this?

XOXOXO

England had thought to throw the mysterious gift along with the note away, but something in his heart said otherwise. Instead, he grabbed a nearby vase and placed the irises inside (they were beautiful), keeping the note in his pocket. Carrying the vase with him, he went into the kitchen to make himself some tea and scones, only to stop when he saw another bouquet of flowers lying on the counter, this time it being white, light red, and dark red carnations. Just as with the irises, a note was attached. England placed the vase down and read the new message:

_Your smile is so warm  
>Like the sun on a spring day<br>I cannot resist_

A light blush fell on England's face. His smile was like the sun? That wasn't possible, but someone obviously thought otherwise. Sadly, this note was written the same way as the first one, so the sender identity remained unknown. With the blush still on his face, he placed the carnations in the vase and the note with its brother.

XOXOXO

Soon after finding the second poem, Arthur began searching every room he entered, expecting more flowers and notes. He found lilacs in his office, orchids in the living room, peonies in the mailbox, and tulips in the bathroom. Soon there were so many flowers that he had to get a bigger vase to fit them all, and he quickly got into the habit of carrying that vase around, despite how tired it was making him. For the notes, each talked about something different about him: his hair, his lips, his skin, etc., and every one of them was written in haiku. And with every poem read, an emotion he had not felt in so long began to show itself, from the blush on his face to the pounding of his heart. It wasn't long before he had a smile on his face.

Even so, he was still unable to figure out who exactly had placed all these flowers in his house. It was starting to become obvious as to why they did it, but not why today of all days and how they were pulling the stunt off without getting caught. By the time the clock struck 10:13 am, England was convinced that the sender's identity would remain a mystery to him forever. That is until he went outside and found the roses lying on the garden. This bouquet was the biggest of them all, but the size of the note attached was the same. England gathered the bundle in his arms and smelled. Such a wonder aroma they were. Then he read the note, noticing right away that it wasn't in haiku this time. In fact, it was in the form of a very familiar poem.

_Roses are red  
>Violets are blue<br>I'm a lousy poet  
>But my love is true<em>

It wasn't the fact that the writer called himself lousy, or the fact that it was based off a well known poem, or the fact that this person had basically said straight out that they loved him. No, the reason Arthur was so shocked was because it was the only poem written by hand, and he instantly recognized the handwriting. _I… must be dreaming… It's my dream all over again…_

Suddenly, a strong set of arms wormed their way around him and tugged him towards them. Arthur gasped, but didn't turn around. He did nothing, not even speak. The only sounds hear was the other person's breath, and the beating of Arthur's heart. A head fell on his shoulder, a familiar piece of hair sticking out farther than the rest.

"So I guess you found the others, right?" he asked. Arthur nodded, unable to answer. Arthur could feel the other's grin form on his face. "So… will you be my Valentine?"

Arthur shrugged off the other man and quickly turned to face him. He tugged hard on his bomber jacket and smacked their lips together. The younger nation was shocked for a moment, but eventually pushed his lips further against England's, wrapping his arms around the smaller nation and holding him close to his chest. They eventually had to stop to get some air into their lungs, much to the disappointment of both, though England didn't push the other away when he realize their position.

"Did that… answer your question, git?" England asked, his face showing just how flustered he was.

America smiled. "Another one might convince me more…"

"Git!" England yelped, kicking America's shin with his leg, though he didn't tried that hard. The other nation only laughed, making England's heart leap once more and plastering a smile on his face. "And America?" England whispered, placing his forehead against the other's shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"I thought those poems were beautiful. The last one was my favorite."

It started off as an ordinary day, and England was glad he chose to wake up for it.

XOXOXO

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!


End file.
